


Peace of Mind

by unicornsandbutane



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Body Worship, Boot Worship, Frottage, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Mind Control, Oral Sex, Stress Relief, surprisingly not non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7557670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandbutane/pseuds/unicornsandbutane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My partner asked for Kylux mind control. It turned out much more tender than I anticipated. </p><p>Hux seeks a supernatural cure for his anxiety. The treatment works, although not in the way he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace of Mind

Hux spends his down-time sparring in the training room, but it’s not enough. He takes on longer and longer shifts, working into the night, trying to just work himself to exhaustion so he can get a moment’s peace, but he can’t. And it’s not just when he sleeps. It’s everywhere. It’s when he eats, it’s when he sits reading reports at his desk, it’s inescapable— a gnawing worry, indescribable and immense and too much to bear. 

He tries to find some relief, but it’s with him when he touches himself, and when he tries to find release in the bed of another. He’s sure it will kill him, or worse, endanger the Order.

And he’s seen what Kylo Ren can do.

So, for the good of the Order, he goes, actually knocks on the door despite the fact that he can override every lock in the place should he have need to, and waits.

The man answers, masked but stripped of his tattered outer layers, leaving him in leggings and tunic. “General Hux,” he says, and doesn’t sound surprised. 

“Ren, I have need of your particular skills,” the General states, and after a moment, Ren steps aside to let him enter.

Hux doesn’t sit. He allows the door to close behind him and clasps his wrists behind his back, grip too tight, grinding the bones. He lifts his chin. “I have seen what you can do in an interrogation room, Ren, and I have seen you steal the consciousness from a body at attention.” He stares evenly at the mask, willing Ren to understand.

“That won’t help you, General. When you wake you will be exactly as you were,” Ren replies, mystical and infuriating. 

“Well what do you suggest?” Hux snaps, hands gripping even tighter.

“Meditation, perhaps?” Kylo answers, lightly. 

Hux scoffs. “Don’t insult me, Ren.”

“I know. You’ve tried. You’ve tried going through your Ecchani forms countless times and it’s done nothing for you. So what will you do, General?”

“/Stars/, Ren!” Hux snarls, “must you make this so difficult? I only want some /peace/!”   
Ren lifts his hands, removes his helmet, stares Hux down. “I’m not making this difficult. You are. You need to give in.”

“I can’t,” Hux protests, but he can’t seem to look away from the perfect blackness of Ren’s eyes. “If I could, if I could let go like that, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Hm,” is all Ren says, and then Hux finds himself moved as if bodily lifted, to stand in front of the bed. “Sit,” Ren commands, and Hux doesn’t know if he complies because this is as close to assent as he’ll get from Ren, or because of the Force.

Then, Ren’s fingers, stripped of their gloves for once, touch his forehead lightly, and he is suddenly immersed in a world of silence and pressure almost like being underwater. Ren is speaking, but he can’t hear him. Then, the words are in his mind as though they’d always been there

“Empty your mind. Focus only on this. At the heart of everything, there is the Void, and the Force, and all things exist between these two. Even you, Hux. You don’t know it, but the Force is in you. It is in all living things.”

Hux doesn’t know what that has to do with anything, and wants to say so, but finds he can’t. 

“Don’t do that,” Ren urges. “You’re attempting to block me. Let. Me. In.”

Hux shakes his head. He can’t. Then, the pressure is greater, his vision tunnels. 

“/No/,” Ren commands.

And even though he came of his own volition Hux feels as though it won’t work; nothing will, and Ren lets him go. 

“We will do this differently. I see the anger, the pain in your mind. Mine gives me focus. Yours drives you to distraction.” Hux, gasping from Ren’s presence leaving him so suddenly, says nothing. Ren approaches again, and Hux takes a breath as though about to dive, but instead of reaching into his mind, Ren reaches for his shoulders, and digs his thumbs into the meat of them, rolling the flesh, bringing out soreness Hux had long since learned to accept. It’s so unexpected, a groan rises to Hux’s lips, tapering into a hiss when the pinch moves to the base of his neck, rubbing in small circles at either side.

He lifts his hands, unbuttons his high collar, shrugs out of his crisp tunic and lets it crumple on the bed. Immediately, Ren’s hands are on him again, and despite himself, Hux shuts his eyes. He feels it when Ren enters his mind again, feels the pressure, the narrowing of his focus. He hears whispers inside his head as though he’d thought them himself, which call up pleasant memories: proud moments, peaceful days, the sound of rain on stone.

The pressure increases and then bursts, like ears popping, but he’s barely aware of it– Ren’s hands are warm and they’re moving down his arms and back up again. “Tell me about the best day of your life.” 

Hux does. It should be difficult but it’s easier than falling and the words spill out of him: “The day I was made a general. The ceremony was beautiful, and I knew I’d earned it– my father’s name meant nothing, then, and I knew I was making it something again, making myself something. The stripes, finally, on the uniform I was given, shone in the light of mid-afternoon, and I turned, and the gathered crowd saluted, and it felt like destiny. I promised myself I’d never stop climbing.”

Ren’s hands slide down his ribs, and because he’s already talking Hux says, “You remind me of the first time I was intimate with a man. He was so reverent. He knelt before me on the floor as I sat on the bed and told me he’d like nothing better than to suck my cock. He kept rubbing my hips and sides, as you are, all throughout. Afterwards, he came from barely a touch. The power was incredible. I love when people kneel.”

Ren’s thumbs dig in under his hips, and Hux gasps. “You want to tell me more about that,” he intones, and Hux opens his eyes, stares straight at him. 

“I want to tell you more about that. I love when people kneel before me. I’ve scraped my way this far, and I’m not going to stop. After my father’s disgrace I watched him brought to heel before lesser men, and was disgusted. I told myself I would never let it happen to me.” 

Ren’s voice sounds again, close, and Hux feels warm all over. “You’re going to tell me about the man.” 

“I’m going to tell you about the man. He was nothing like you, yet very much like you. Quiet, determined, ruthless. I think we were attracted to that ruthlessness in each other. We respected one another. I liked that he approached me, that he admitted to his desires. We were in the Academy together. He had a very talented mouth. I believe he was killed on Yavin-4 some years ago. It’s a shame. He was a credit to the Order.”

“Tell me about your most memorable sexual experience,” Ren demanded, and there was something… Something unusual in his voice, but Hux didn’t think too much on it. 

“It was years ago. I was at an official dinner, top brass of the Order all in attendance. But of course I couldn’t touch any of them, not without a scandal, not without it appearing as brown-nosing. And besides, there was a young man among the wait staff… I know it’s cliché, but I caught his eye as he refilled my wine glass, and he tugged his shirtsleeves back as he reached for my salad plate, showed me his wrists. 

He was well muscled, broad shouldered but trim, and yet on each wrist he wore a cuff. They could easily be disguised as decorative, but to my eye the little metal rings fitted to each one were unmistakable. He smiled at me, and it was such an odd smile, lopsided. I took him to bed after the puddings, and he carried a bottle of brandy up to my room. He wore the chains that bound the cuffs around his neck, unwound them, handed them to me to fasten. I asked him what he wanted with me. Of course all the staff had to be well vetted, with all those important people in the room. He said I was the only person at that table who carried himself as though he deserved to be there. Not as though I /thought/ I did. 

I bade him to undress me, and he did, slowly, unbuttoning and unclipping my dress uniform with some difficulty. I liked that he didn’t know how to do it, because it suggested he didn’t make a habit of chatting up officers for personal gain. 

He licked and kissed at my neck, my collar, my chest, my stomach, but before he unfastened my trousers, he spread himself out on the bed, flat out on his belly to lick my boots. 

I’d never seen anyone do that, not really. I’d heard the phrase, usually as a derisive sort of joke at the Academy, but to see him, his mouth wide over the leather, tongue in the creases, made me hard faster than I can ever remember happening. And he moaned, loudly, all the while. He reached down, with both hands because of the cuffs, and squeezed himself through his trousers as he kissed my arches. He humped the dip of his hands, holding himself up with his shoulders pressed into the bed and his face pressed into my left boot. 

I heard it before I saw it, his hitched breath, the broken moan as he came into his shorts without my having done anything to help him besides offer my boots for his mouth. He apologised, but didn’t stop. 

He took my boots off, kissed my feet, pulled my trousers off, kissed up my legs, wrapped his mouth around my cock, but I told him to stop. He seemed loathe to do so, but he did it, and looked up at me with dark eyes and thick lashes. I asked if he wanted me to fuck him, and he shivered all over. 

When he knelt up I could see the wet patch in his uniform and it was so perfectly filthy I grabbed him by the hair and bit his neck and he howled and rutted against my thigh and I could feel his come, wet through the material and growing cold. I could feel him getting hard again beneath. He shucked his uniform like a madman, ripped a clasp from its findings. He had a sachet of lubricant in his pocket and it shouldn’t have surprised me considering he wore manacles to work, and I suppose it didn’t, but he barely stretched himself at all, just slicked me up and sank down on me, his cock filling as he did. By the time he was flush with my hips, he was fully hard again. The chain between his wrists jingled as he braces on my chest and began lifting himself. He rode me like he needed it, and perhaps he did.”

Ren’s hands grip his thighs and the energy in the room has changed but Hux keeps talking. “He told me I looked more like a king than a colonel and I came so hard I nearly lost consciousness.

I asked him if this was how he swore fealty, and he came all over my chest.” Hux blinks rapidly, making Ren look like a malfunctioning holovid leaning in, but then their lips touch and Hux breaks from his catatonic state to throw his arms around Ren and pull him down on top of himself and they grind together and Ren is hard and Hux is hard. He doesn’t remember when that happened but his legs are around Ren and he’s never spread his legs for another man but Ren’s face is pressed into his neck, his shoulders hunched, and he’s moaning into the skin there, breath hot and moist.

“I want to feel it,” Hux says without prompting, and Ren shoves his leggings down, wrenches Hux’s trousers to his knees, and then his big hand is around them both. 

“You’ll need Knights, when you’re Emperor,” he says, and Hux moans, and bucks against Ren’s hard cock, and Hux says “Yes,” and he’s coming, eyes closed, mouth open, deep sounds he’s never made before rolling up out of him.

Hux all but melts into the bed, his arms flopping to his sides. Ren braces himself over him, looking sullen and wrathful as always. 

“Thank you,” Hux says, but Ren shakes his head. 

“I failed you. I let go when I kissed you, broke the mental bond.”

Hux heaves a breath. Thinks for a moment. “I wonder what it would be like,” he pauses, considering the ceiling. “I wonder what it would be like, if we were to do that, while you were in my mind. How would that feel?” He doesn’t want to think too much about what all of this means, what he’d come here for, whether he’d accomplished his goal. But he feels good, his mind is hazy, and when he licks his lips he can taste Ren on them.

Ren rolls over onto his side, lies next to Hux with his cock softening on his belly, his fingers laced on his chest. Hux observes him, quietly. 

“You didn’t mean that,” he says. “Being my Knight.” This is dangerous territory. Ren shucks one shoulder. 

“Show me you deserve it,” he murmurs, and Hux feels something in the pit of his stomach.

After a pause, Ren reaches over, takes Hux’s hand, kisses the knuckle of his ring finger. He nods. Hux strokes his long black hair, and they lapse into silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Another Star Wars drabble! I'm cooking up something longer, of this whets your appetite~! Find me on tumblr under the same username, y'all!


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